Breaking Tradition
by MiaGhost
Summary: It's the last Christmas at Uni and their accidental tradition is due to be broken.Each year Merlin puts up the library Christmas tree.Each year Arthur watches. This year, Arthur's going to man up and talk to him. At the very least learn his name. This year, Merlin'll ask him to help.Or for his number.Or if he wants hot chocolate. Or a holiday romance. Tis the season, after all.
1. Chapter 1

_**(A/N):**_ _Hey guys! A short seasonal fic (Hopefully part of a little set, we'll see!) that popped into my mind the other day. Shouldn't be more than a few Chapters - ten, tops - and should be super fluffy and just sort of cosy.  
The on-set of Christmas has triumphantly gotten its claws into me and I am so in the spirit it's crazy.  
Happy Reading!  
_

* * *

 _Chapter One_

"You're just sore because Leon pinned Morgana down long enough to get a _date_ when you can't even get her to look at you without puking."

Merlin looked up from the shelf he was sorting, hearing the low drift of a familiar voice as it carried through the doors ahead of its owner. He could feel his heart start to pick up its pace.

"Hey! That's completely not true and you're a blaggard even to say it!"

Merlin felt the smile curling his lips as he turned back to the pile of books by his feet. The owner of the first voice made an indignant sound, shortly followed by the second voice letting out a screech. Merlin had seen the pair around enough in his three years with the library that he knew exactly what had happened.

Tall with dark curls had pinched his friend in the ribs, the one who looked like he'd stepped out of a pirate movie. Merlin knew his name, too, from hearing his friends repeatedly hiss it in various annoyed and irritated manners on their visits to the library. Gwaine, he was called. And under normal circumstances Merlin wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off him, if it wasn't for the fact that he and every other guy like him had been overshadowed the first time Merlin had set eyes on the blonde who usually arrived with Gwaine and his friends.

Hence the reason for Merlin's heart beginning to race.

Despite the instinctive urge, Merlin didn't look up when they walked through the big glass doors, or when they walked past the circular corner that served as his desk. He kept his head down until they'd chosen an area, the large round table they sat at more often than not. He listened to them dumping rucksacks and dropping textbooks on the tabletop, the scattered sound of pens and pencils and the metallic clip of laptop lids being opened.

 _That_ was when Merlin took a peek and felt his insides turn vaguely gooey.

He was there, in amidst the pleasant bickering, the kind of bickering Merlin did with Will and sometimes Gwen. The type of bickering his mum and Uncle Gaius got up to. It was playful with little heat and often made Merlin want to be part of it, when he heard it. The man of Merlin's daydreams had already chosen a seat, his fingers tapping at the keyboard of his silver notebook even as his head was angled to one side to listen to the friend next to him, a half-smile on his lips.

For three years, Merlin had watched him from afar and even though the closest he'd ever gotten to a conversation was when he recommended an alternative textbook that one time, he still couldn't help hoping and wishing that there would come a day when the bloke arrived at the library without his usual posse and that they would… Well, talking would be a good start.

o0o0o0o

"Oh, he looked over." Gwaine hissed, leaning in towards Arthur's face.

Arthur pretended not to understand, concentrating more than necessary on typing in his password to get his essay to open.

"Hm?"

"Oh don't play dumb, Pendragon. I noticed you notice him notice you."

Arthur frowned a little, finally flicking his gaze to Gwaine, despite the steadfast urge to look for _him_.

"What? Wasn't listening."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and lounging back in his chair.

"Oh right? Must have been some other scrawny-looking bloke you were mooning over then. My mistake."

"I wasn't _mooning_ over hi- Shut up." Arthur caught on too late, narrowing his eyes at the growing grin on Gwaine's tanned face.

"Oh, just admit it and shut him up, I've three thousand words to write by Friday and I'm damned if I'm going to have to check over every one of them the night before just because I've been too busy pulling you two apart."

Arthur and Gwaine turned to throw matching scandalised expressions Lance's way. Lance had his head buried in a book already and didn't bother even looking up.

"You're supposed to be my mate." Arthur complained, pushing Gwaine away when the numpty thought he could get away with nicking Arthur's coffee cup. "Get your own, Gwaine."

Gwaine didn't seemed fazed, turning promptly to the next coffee in his line of sight and snagging it from the tabletop. He'd downed two almost-burning-but-nearly-drinkable mouthfuls before the owner realised.

"Hey!" Elyan grouched, reaching for the cup and scowling when Gwaine lifted it above his head, out of reach.

"Gotta be on your toes, pipsqueak. Lesson number… What are we on now, eighty four?"

Gwaine grinned when the younger boy gave up, dropping back into his chair with a defeated sigh, his eyes watching almost longingly as Gwaine raised the cup towards him in a _cheers_ gesture.

"Gotta work on your reflexes. _Always be alert and vigilant._ "

"Cut it with the _Unagi_ shite, _Ross_." Lance scolded without raising his head, pushing his untouched coffee cup towards Elyan, who swiped it up before Gwaine could even consider it.

"That's _Professor Gellar_ to you, and if you're going to be such a spoilsport, you're going to be Monica." Gwaine retorted, draining the cup and clicking it down on the table triumphantly, earning a suspicious look from Arthur, who promptly pushed it further from the growing pile of papers he was pulling from his bag.

"Fine." Lance replied, still not looking up from the textbook he was flicking through. "Because we all know I've been able to kick your arse since we were in nappies."

Arthur smirked and Elyan hid his snigger - poorly - in the coffee cup in his hands. Gwaine made an indecipherable squawk that landed somewhere between _Hold on a minute, that's simply untrue_ and _You've got it the wrong way round, mate_. Lance still didn't lift his head, but Arthur could see a clear smile toying with his lips.

Gwaine crossed his arms and sat petulantly for a time, letting his gaze wander and tapping absently on the edge of the table with one of the pens he'd stolen from someone or other. The others ignored him, absorbed in their own studies, nobody feeling up to the chore of trying to set Gwaine on his own track. If left alone long enough he usually came round. Usually. Once everyone was sick to death of his antics. But usually.

Arthur was balancing a booklet on the edge of his laptop and carefully highlighting, lid between his teeth, when Gwaine let out a long-suffering sigh. Arthur paused what he was doing, his gaze flicking up to see what Gwaine was about to do. Gwaine didn't look at Arthur, his gaze unfocused but pointed vaguely in Lance's direction, before drifting to Elyan. Gwaine stilled, and a familiar glint twinkled in his eye as his mouth began to curl into a smirk that had infuriated Arthur as many times as it had humoured him. Arthur could feel the change in the air at their table and wondered whether Lance would notice before it took shape. He looked at the two oblivious others.

Elyan was a second year, with a rocky track-record behind him and a lot of untapped potential ahead of him. He was studying the same course as Lance and as part of his fourth-year course Lance had been approached about the opportunity to mentor. Being the soft-hearted mate they all knew and loved, he'd agreed. Upon meeting the handful of students who'd signed up for that extra guidance, Lance had picked out Elyan and taken the kid under his wing. He vehemently denied that it had anything to do with the fact that Elyan happened to be the trouble-making younger brother of a girl named Gwen, whom Lance was utterly besotted with. He argued that Elyan and he had connected the best and that he'd thought it as good a sign as any that he may be able to offer support.

Nobody believed it for a minute, even though they knew it was probably true. At least partly, anyway. Arthur watched Gwaine lean forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he tipped his chin onto one open palm in an entirely nonchalant manner that always made Arthur wary. It was like seeing grass shifting and knowing there was a snake under that pile of leaves just waiting to strike. Not that Arthur had ever experienced such a thing for real. He'd seen it on the Discovery Channel.

"So Elyan," Gwaine started, sounding half-distracted and semi-polite. His eyes danced. "How's your sister?"

Arthur turned back to highlighting the line he was on, safe in the knowledge that he had at least twenty minutes of bickering to do his work.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"You're in a good mood."

Merlin looked up from the soapy plate in his hand, using his shoulder to knock one earphone from his ear.

"What?"

Will sat his shopping bag down on the countertop and rolled his eyes before giving Merlin a familiar _what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you_ smile.

"I said you're in a good mood."

"Oh." Merlin replied, turning back to dunk the plate once more into the basin in the sink and reaching for the scourer, "Yeah."

"Too right, yeah. Your singing's terrible, mate."

Without turning, Merlin lifted one hand from the soapy water and flicked it in his flatmate's direction. A satisfying squeal told him the water had hit home.

"Oi, you pillock! Watch it!"

Merlin laughed. Will left the room grumbling, slapping in effectively at the large damp patch on his shirt. By the time he came back downstairs in a dry t-shirt, Merlin was drying off his hands and the drain was gurgling as it hastened away the suds. Will raised an eyebrow at him and Merlin pushed Will's favourite mug across the worktop till it sat next to his own in front of the growling kettle.

"Tea." WIll answered, reaching over to begin the process of emptying the shopping bag.

"You get sugar?" Merlin asked in return, reaching over to take the teabags Will had just produced.

Will made an affirmative noise, splitting the shopping items into categories based on where in the kitchen they were kept. Merlin filled their teabag jar and placed one in each mug. After a moment of watching the water dance through the window on the kettle, Will handed him a bag of sugar. Merlin promptly set about opening it.

"What did you get up to, then? Stack a lot of shelves?"

Merlin snorted at Will's teasing tone, swatting one hand in his friend's direction without really trying.

"Oh sorry," laughed Will, "I meant did you _organise_ lots of shelves?"

"You're an arse." Merlin answered, filling the two mugs with hot water.

"You like my arse." Will retorted, and Merlin turned to flash him a slow, deliberately flirty grin.

As he'd known it would, it made Will shift his weight a little. He laughed with triumph when Will scowled, turning himself to face Merlin and keep his bum away from him. Merlin tipped his head to one side and stuck his tongue out at him.

"I've got no interest in your bony backside, thanks."

Will mimed relief, wiping his brow and giving Merlin a _thank-goodness_ look. Merlin rolled his eyes and stirred the tea, a smile creeping over his face. Will moved to the fridge, chucking cheese into the bottom drawer in a deliberately haphazard manner meant to irk Merlin. Merlin groaned, half from annoyance and half because he knew that was the reaction Will was hoping for. They had routines, exchanges of looks and responses that went back to their years in nappies, and although they did sometimes truly drive each other crazy, there was never anything to come of it.

Merlin loved Will to death and back and Will felt the same, not that he'd ever tell Merlin because being the mushy one in their friendship was the job of _the gay bloke_.

Will came back with his peace offering, handing Merlin the milk before scooping up another bundle of shopping, this time for the freezer. Merlin finished their tea, chucking the spoon in the empty sink and putting the lid on the empty milk carton.

"Tea's ready."

"No shit, I could never have guessed." Will answered good-naturedly.

Merlin placed his tea in front of him before sliding onto one of their stools, flicking at Will's ear in the process. Will ducked away with a distracted grumble and walked the final dry goods to their designated cupboard. Merlin watched him, wincing when Will dumped everything in an empty space and left it, shutting the door. When he caught Merlin's eye again, he grinned.

"I give you two hours before you sort it out." he wagered, lifting his mug and grinning broadly at Merlin's denial.

" _Anyway_ ," he started, taking a drink from his mug and levelling a proper gaze Merlin's way, "did a certain someone visit the Holy Grail of Books today?"

Merlin ignored the taunt about his beloved library, instead looking down into his mug and humming as though he didn't understand. Will leaned one side against the counter, angled to give Merlin his attention. Merlin could see no way to avoid the coming thread of conversation.

"Oh, lots of people in today. Looks like the exam madness is starting to kick in." He risked an innocent glance at his roommate as he drank his tea. "Aren't you about ready to start studying, yet?"

Will opened his mouth and then stopped, shaking his head.

"No, no. Don't change the subject. Did he come in, or didn't he?"

Merlin made a defeated sound and blew his fringe out of his eyes dramatically, to make Will laugh as much as to give himself time to prepare himself for the coming conversation.

"He so did." Will answered, a laugh in his voice, "You're going red."

"I am not." Merlin replied, before feeling his face heat.

"Aha! You are!" Will crowed gleefully, his eyes gleaming the way they did when he was about to launch into a full taunt mode.

"That's only because you said I was." Merlin replied, scowling at him and flicking some crumbs from the worktop in his direction.

Will simply stepped to one side and chuckled, before leaning on the counter again.

"You've got it bad, mate." He smiled, one elbow propped to balance his chin on his knuckles.

Merlin thought about denying it, before realising he didn't have the energy for a battle. His shoulders slumped and he sighed.

"Yup."

Will snorted, draining his mug and pushing off from the worktop to take it over to the sink. He ruffled Merlin's hair as he passed.

"Tell him already. Watching you pine is sickening."

Merlin groaned and buried his head in his arms, his forehead flat on the countertop.

"Do we have to do this again?"

Will sighed, over-dramatic and pretending he was doing Merlin some great service.

"No. But I will say this: If you don't get your arse in gear by Christmas I'm going to tell him myself."

"Will-"

"No, I mean it this time," Will's voice was firm but not unpleasant, and by the sounds of it he had come to stand beside Merlin. "You've been after him forever and every year you get worse. Tell him, or I will because by _Gods_ I'm tired of you moping. _Especially_ at Christmas."

"I don't _mope_!" Merlin exclaimed, his head coming up so that he could shoot Will an indignant gaze, "I'll have you know I'm the most cheerful person you know."

"Besides Gwen and Freya." Will retorted.

"Besides Gwen and Freya." Merlin conceded with a grin. "But other than that it's me, yeah?"

Will rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but that's only because even you're a mopey git you're still a chipper fucker."

Merlin beamed, and Will groaned and rolled his eyes again.

"Just talk to him already, so that he can shoot you down and we can get on with finding you some other bloke."

Merlin knocked Will with his elbow, but Will only sighed and threw an arm over his shoulders.

"Just… Try, Merlin. If he's a pillock, he's a pillock. And if he's not, you can go off and be adorable and sickening together and stay out of my way, yeah?"

Merlin hummed and shrugged him off and picked up his mug, wrapping his fingers around it. When Will ruffled his hair again Merlin shot him a half-smile.

"You care, really, is that what you're saying?"

Will stuck his nose in the air and snorted.

"Nope. I don't care either way if you never get him."

But his half-glance at Merlin said otherwise, and Merlin felt it glow warm in his chest.

"Okay." he said, because Will seemed to be waiting for something.

WIll nodded sharply, and then threw his arms out in a stretch.

"Welp, my work is done. I'm off out to the pub, you coming?"

Merlin shook his head.

"Nah, I'll stay in. I've got-"

"Reading to do, yeah. Don't wait up, Merls."

Merlin laughed, watching Will leave the room and head for his jacket, hanging in the hall.

"As if I would!" he called after him, and he heard Will laugh as he pulled the front door of their flat shut behind him.

With Will gone, Merlin finished his tea, cleaning up crumbs and coffee rings from the worktops and generally fussing because he wanted to avoid thinking about _him_ until he was done and could curl on the couch under a blanket and just _daydream_.

Merlin knew he was ridiculous, but it didn't matter in the slightest. Three years of it had shaved away much of his self-embarrassment. Besides, it wasn't like it hurt anyone but himself, was it? Merlin sighed as he tucked the dishtowel over the oven door handle.

He hunted around for his Christmas DVDs in the living room, finding Love Actually and immediately putting it in the drawer of the console Will had been playing before he went shopping. Blanket in hand, Merlin made himself comfortable, not even trying to imagine himself and the mysterious blonde in the roles of almost every couple, sighing into the embrace of Christmas spirit and feeling his chest pang in a familiar manner.

What better to soothe a love-sick heart than a soppy Christmas movie and the imaginings that he'd be brave enough to approach the bloke he wanted more than he could voice?

And it wasn't just a physical thing, either. Not that he wasn't gorgeous, because oh Lord _was_ he. But Merlin had watched for three years, had seen the way the blonde lit up when he spoke about something he must feel passionate about, had watched with envy every time the bloke got involved in whatever banter was taking place at his table. Merlin had seen the way he looked on Sundays, when he almost always came alone and read in a corner by himself, when he looked soft and his hair wasn't styled and he looked like he could just curl up and sleep there in the corner. It always made Merlin want to go over, to start a conversation, to sit maybe a little too close and be… Well, sappy and cuddly and… Well. Merlin had ached, every time, wishing he had the courage to go over and see what he was reading, talk about it if he knew it, recommend something he thought might be _his thing_.

And Merlin so badly wanted to know just what _his thing_ might be. He wanted to know if he was into poetry, if he was musical, did he do sports? Merlin wanted to know if he had a secret passion for YA novels like Merlin did, or if he had something equally awkward. Did he love Christmas as much as Merlin did? Was that why he'd been in the library the past three Christmases, when it was time for Merlin to put up the tree? Would he be there this Friday, when the tree went up?

The idea popped into his head so hard it jerked him upright.

 _That was it! The way to start a conversation._

Merlin was filled with a sudden, movie-fuelled conviction. He'd be the one putting up the tree anyway, so if the blonde just happened to be there he could… Merlin could somehow find a way to ask him to help, or at least do something to catch his attention and start a conversation. Merlin grinned, feeling anticipation stir and bubble. Two days. He had two days to wait and if _he_ happened to visit then Merlin was going to ask him.

Nerves be damned.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

Arthur dreaded his graduation day. He'd been free during his University years in a way he knew he wouldn't be when his father offered him the expected compulsory office job somewhere high up in the company. He hadn't always coasted through the last three and a bit years, but it'd been an experience he wished could just keep going.

Particularly the Christmas tradition he'd developed completely by accident.

It started his first Christmas there, on a day when Morgana was being particularly frustrating and Arthur had had quite enough of trying to calm her the fuck down. He'd left Leon to it and hunted through the University campus for a suitable place to kill time while decidedly _not_ looking like he was hiding and licking his wounds.

That happened to be the very evening the library had set aside to put their Christmas tree up, and Arthur fell witness to the sight of a rather lanky, scrawny-looking bloke wrestling with the 8-foot monstrosity, and tangling himself in tinsel and lights.

Arthur had been planning to cut through the library, the smokers' exit on the far side gave him a clear path to the rugby pitch where he knew the team were practicing. But when he'd swiped his card at the entrance and taken his first breath of library air, Arthur had paused. On one hand, it was warmer than outside, and almost deserted despite being so close to exam time. There was music playing softly overhead and despite it only being the 28th of November, the sound of one of his favourite Christmas songs gave Arthur a warm feeling. As he wandered into the main body of the ground level, undecided whether he was going to find a table or the exit, Arthur had spied _him_ and the decision had been made for him.

He'd arrived in time for the tree to already be erected, an eight-foot monster at the very least, possibly even nine or ten - Arthur had never been good with judging heights and would need to stand beside it to get a decent feel for the right one - and so wide around that two people might easily stand behind it with plenty of space to spare. Not that Arthur was looking for a place to hide and lick those wounds, mind.

Sitting on his knees and rifling through a considerably large box of Christmas lights was potentially the dorkiest looking bloke Arthur had ever seen. He was willowy - read _scrawny_ \- and had a mop of dark hair so untidy that Arthur was almost buckled by a sudden fierce want to straighten it out somewhat. He was dressed in a pair of frayed skinny jeans and a colourful t-shirt with some image or other on it that Arthur couldn't see from his angle. Over that the stranger wore a checked shirt that was at least two sizes too wide for him and he had the sleeves rolled unevenly up to his elbows. From what Arthur could see of his face, the bloke had high cheekbones that kicked off under the fluorescent lighting and when the dark head tipped to one side Arthur could see the dark blue eyes that dominated his pale face.

Arthur would never admit it, but he'd been rooted to the spot for several long moments, watching - read _staring at_ \- him and wondering what on earth to do about the unexpected heat coiling in his chest.

Thankfully, by the time the bloke made a triumphant noise - and dear _lord_ did it do something to Arthur's brain - and began to remove a long trail of twinkly lights from the box, Arthur had come to his senses and seated himself somewhere out of the way. (Where he still had an unobstructed view, of course.)

The bloke got to his feet, his hands full of the dark green wire beaded with multicoloured lights and his face full of concentration, and when the cable coiled at his feet without tangling Arthur had his breath stolen by the absolutely _stunning_ grin that broke across the angles of his face, turning every edge soft and lighting up the dark eyes that Arthur was very quickly coming to realise he was pretty fucking attracted to.

His decision had been made, naturally, and Arthur had settled in to watch. At least he'd had the presence of mind to grab a book from the nearest shelf and hunt a half-filled notebook from one of the inside pockets of his favourite coat. He'd left his rucksack in the flat he shared with Leon, of course, and did not fancy leaving to retrieve textbooks to complete his cover of _studious student_. The book had nothing to do with what Arthur was studying, but nobody need know that.

The bloke in charge of decorating the tree - had he been tasked with it because he looked so ethereal and elfin, Arthur wondered? - held Arthur's attention like nobody he'd ever met before. He had set to work meticulously, slipping the branches of the giant tree through small spaces in the wires of the lights, starting at the top and balanced on a silver set of stepladders. He worked steadily, curling the lengths of cable around his arm and spacing them almost perfect distances apart. It took forever, how long Arthur didn't rightly know because he was far too busy simply _watching_.

By the time the elf - as Arthur had come to think of him in his head - reached the last branches at the bottom he looked worn out, adjusting and readjusting his sleeves as he stepped back to take a look. Arthur's mood had mellowed, his anger at Morgana and his exasperation with Leon swaying from one side of the argument to other had lost much of its heat. And if Arthur hadn't realised by that point that he was beginning to build a pretty deep crush on this bloke, what happened next sealed the deal.

The long lengths of empty cables and plug heads that snaked from where the bloke had hidden them by the tree's fake trunk towards the extension lead that they hadn't been plugged into yet were piled and twisting at his feet. When the dark-haired elf took a step backwards his feet caught, and Arthur could see the way he was tangled. The bloke lost his balance, wobbling almost comically and flailing his arms as he swayed towards the floor. Moving his feet tangled him further and he twisted, before _somehow_ catching himself and stilling, bent over a little at the waist with his arms thrown out to his sides and a surprised look on his face.

Which then melted into a triumphant, _beaming_ smile that melted the remnants of Arthur's bad mood away completely.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

Merlin felt a shiver travel up his frame and curled his toes, drawing his knees further up against his chest and fumbling with sleep-laden fingers to pull his duvet further up, tucking it right under his chin. The movement shifted him from the warm patch his body had carved into the sheet. With a wince, he wriggled back.

After a few moments of waiting to see if sleep would claim him again, Merlin was resigned to the fact that he had awoken. With a yawn, he opened his eyes, registering how cold the room was. Will must have changed the timers Merlin had set on the heating. _Again_. He twisted, wrapping the duvet around himself and trying not to move from the warm patch just yet. He looked across his room, the winter sunlight peeking enticingly under his blind. After a moment of watching it, Merlin felt an odd stillness come across him.

The light from outside was pale and cool and wintry, but also unusually… white.

Merlin blinked, looking at the pale strip of light. And then he got up, anticipation bordering on excitement and filling his abdomen. Could it be? He pushed aside the duvet, taking a sharp breath at the temperature of his room. He made his way over and curled his fingers around the curtain string, before inching the blind up enough to look outside.

" _Yes_." Merlin breathed, staring out at the pale morning and feeling the grin take over his face.

Everything was blanketed in white, like the crisp icing on a Christmas cake, frosty and fluffy at the same time. The small square of grass that counted as Merlin and Will's garden was fully iced in snow, not a peek of green anywhere he looked. The trees wore white winter coats and the sky was so full of snow that Merlin felt he were encapsulated inside a snow globe, white above and below and falling in-between.

It filled him with a buoyant, fragile feeling that catapulted him immediately back to when he was a child, on his toes and gripping the window ledge in his mother's living room to see the snow falling outside. To listening to his mother's favourite Christmas tape fill the house with gentle, old songs. To when his father would come home late, the heavy thudding as he stamped his boots against the front step before opening the door, bringing with him a weary smile and the bitter bite of the snow.

It had never mattered how hard a day he'd had, how long a shift at work. When Merlin rushed into the hall to greet him as he was unwinding his scarf, as the buttons on his coat came undone, Balinor would reach down to scoop him up, burying Merlin in the cold folds of his coat, dropping melting snow into his hair. And when Merlin spoke, excitement stumbling his words and shining in his eyes, well Balinor would breathe a deep, tired breath and he would re-wind that scarf around his neck and he would re-button his coat and he would hold Merlin steady as the boy tripped and wobbled in his haste to don his welly boots and coat.

Hunith would watch from the doorway with a smile that spoke of her love, as Balinor led Merlin out across the sprawling lawn, as Merlin screeched and giggled in the snowy dark, as he spun and stuck out his tongue to catch the falling flakes. She would laugh when Merlin made snow angels and when Balinor threw handfuls of snow at him.

Merlin blinked out at the snowy morning from his flat and felt the nostalgia dig itself deep into his core. Christmas was his favourite time of year, everything about it was his favourite part. But there would always be something about those Christmases, when he was almost tall enough to see the tree and his garden out of that window. The Christmas Eve's of begging to stay up just a little longer for his dad to come home, of helping his mother bake shortbread when he was more of a hinderance than a help, of his mother helping keep his arm steady as he poured milk into a glass for Santa Clause. Something that couldn't be found in modern Christmases, not till he went home and sat in that living room listening to that worn old tape play and smelling the shortbread baking in the oven.

Will was in the kitchen when Merlin walked in, and he grinned at Merlin's surprise.

"What? Am I not allowed to be up on time to wish you luck before you disappear for the day?"

Merlin blinked at him, raising an eyebrow as he made his way over to take the boiling kettle from its cradle, to pour a mug and spoon some coffee into it.

"What for?" Merlin asked, pretending the bubbling anxious excitement in his gut didn't exist.

Will's grin only widened, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he tipped his head to one side. If it wasn't for the fact that they'd grown together like brothers of the closest kind, Merlin would find each of Will's features attractive in their own way. As it stood he could _see_ that Will was attractive but didn't _feel_ it. To Merlin he would always be the annoying but special big brother he had always needed but never deserved.

"You know damn well _what for_!" Will cried, mimicking Merlin in a high-pitched chirp and laughing at the sound of it. "Come off it, Merls. I know you're absolutely desperate for night to fall so you can set about putting up that bloody tree and ogling _the Blonde God_."

Merlin felt his face heat and scowled ineffectively at his flatmate as he stole the milk carton right from Will's hand.

"Sod off." he answered, and Will only cackled harder.

"Told you!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, embarrassed and anxious and excited and finding it entirely too much effort to look Will in the eyes right then. So he turned his back to pour milk into his mug.

"Told me what, exactly?"

"That you're desperate to go and make moon-eyes at the bloke you practically stalk."

"Hey! I don't _stalk_ him! If I stalked him I'd know his name, would I not?"

Will just grinned gleefully.

"I still can't believe you. Practically in love with a guy for three years and you don't even know his name. It's tragic."

Merlin huffed, turning away again to spoon more sugar than necessary into his coffee, his cheeks aflame and his heart thudding a little hard in his chest as he squirmed uncomfortably in his shoes.

"I'm not in love with him." he mumbled petulantly.

Will clapped him on the shoulder.

"Sure you're not. You only practically die every time you talk about him because you think he has a good sense of fashion."

"You are so unsupportive, it's outrageous. Why can't Gwen be my flatmate?"

"Because then Gwen would have to know about _The Bloke_ , and she'd have told him by now."

Merlin sighed and wrapped his fingers around his coffee as he turned back to shoot Will a pained look.

"And Freya?"

"Freya'd tell Gwen." Will answered immediately, dismissive and matter-of-fact. "I'm all you got."

Merlin gave him a half-smile.

"Don't I know it."

Will mirrored the expression and met his eyes for a long look before slouching away from the counter with a gruff cough.

"Well, I've wished you luck. I'm going back to bed. Have fun tonight."

Merlin watched him leave the kitchen with a fond expression on his face. Despite how Will loved to taunt and tease and push his buttons, it was often just his way of showing he cared.

When his coffee was finished and his mug rinsed, Merlin pulled on his boots - Gwen had practically dragged him shopping the week before with fierce arguments about how his trainers weren't appropriate for winter - and slipped into his coat. He juggled his gloves, hat and scarf as he locked the door, and turned to look at the snow.

Somehow, as always, the view from the window had been but a fraction of the real thing. Merlin breathed it in, eyes closing as the cold bit his tongue and his nose. He felt the skin around his eyes respond, his face tighter and his fingers more awake. It was _brilliant_.

Merlin lifted his feet as he wandered off, every footstep a satisfying crunch and every breath a delicate puff that hung before him until he stepped through it. He trailed his fingers through the small mounds of snow atop fences, leaving trenches in the previously unblemished lines. He made every footstep precise, leaving a pristine trail in his wake. Halfway to the University his footprints told the story of a gleeful twirl, his arms spread out to the sides and his head thrown back to catch the snowflakes.

His nerves were partly soothed, his excitement and love for the season building the anticipation up like a towering Lego figure growing taller and taller the more he thought about it. _Today_. It would be today when his plan came to fruition or failed, tonight when he began the task of dressing the library tree as he had these past three years. He couldn't believe that no-one else wanted the job, that no-one else working there seemed to share his absolute _joy_ at the prospect of Christmas.

Merlin considered it a perk of his job rather than a chore, particularly when he factored in the routine presence of the blonde who had made it so difficult for Merlin to find other people attractive. Merlin hoped deep in his soul that his favourite visitor came that night, wished on every Christmas star and prayed it happened.

It was sort of tradition now, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

"Consider your point well made, next time I'll warn you in advance of my arrival."

Arthur looked up from the tablet in his hand to see his sister standing in the doorway, looking like she'd just gotten out of bed. She had her housecoat tied over her pyjamas, as sure a sign as any that she was feeling tender after a night of alcohol. Her hair was twisted in one thick french braid that lay on her shoulder, and several tails were coming loose from it. Morgana would never normally be seen looking anything less than her best, and certainly not in her pyjamas. The fact that it was only Arthur probably had something to do with it too.

He raised his eyebrow at her, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Morgana."

She scowled at him as she walked across the room to the coffee maker, her eyes fixed on him to show her displeasure.

"Yes you do. All that infernal racket, banging and turning the taps too high and putting on the radio. You know _fine_ , Arthur."

He turned back to the news article he was reading online, his face decidedly innocent. But she wasn't fooled at all.

"Perhaps it only sounded like banging because you were out to destroy your liver last night."

She growled in response, slamming a mug down on the counter in her irritation and then wincing at the sound. Arthur smothered a chuckle.

"And here I thought it was the noise you had a problem with." he commented sweetly.

"Get bent." was her reply.

Arthur didn't even try to cut off his laughter that time, for it had always amused him when his prim and polite, well-behaved sister cursed. She glared at him, and Arthur was sure that if she wasn't feeling so delicate she'd probably have something further to say to him right then than the growled sound she was currently making.

"There's coffee in the pot already." he said eventually, taking pity on her once his laughter had died down.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but clicked the button to release the pot just the same, and her expression _did_ soften marginally when reasonably hot coffee did pour from the spout.

"Don't think you're off the hook." she told him.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Arthur answered, before pushing a plate bearing two buttered crumpets her way when she sat opposite him at the square table.

Morgana gave him a half-smile, reaching for the breakfast she likely hadn't been remotely in the mood for until she'd seen it.

"Did I ever tell you how pleased I am that you're my brother?" she asked, taking a bite.

Arthur smiled back at her.

"Once or twice, I think I recall."

By the time Morgana was finished she was looking much more like herself, and Arthur allowed himself to pack away his tablet and gather his notes safe in the knowledge that she wasn't in need of a caretaker till Leon awoke. His best friend was a wonder, particularly when it came to Morgana, but on a morning after a night out it was nigh impossible to wake him until he was ready to be woken.

"Well, I best be off." he told her, pushing in his chair and slipping his arms into his jacket.

Morgana made a sympathetic face, turning to peer out the kitchen window.

"I don't envy you." she answered, lifting the discarded hat from the tabletop when it looked like he wasn't going to take it with him. "Here."

Arthur rolled his eyes when he saw what she was handing him, but his smile was gentle just the same.

"I'm not going into battle." he teased, "There's no need to look so worried."

Morgana drew her eyebrows together.

"I'm not worried. Sorry for feeling bad about you trudging through the snow to school. I won't other next time."

Arthur simply hummed in response, tugging the hat down over his ears and adjusting his gloves. When he walked past her to leave through the back door he dropped a kiss atop her head.

"Bye, Morgana. Stay warm, and if Leon's hungover laugh at him for me."

She shot him a smile that swayed between sweet and downright wicked.

"Oh, I will."

Arthur laughed, closing the door behind himself and looking up at the wintry sky. Despite the cold and the way he knew the snow would melt into his clothing as the day went on, Arthur felt light and cheerful as he crunched through the snow, leaving dark flashes of pavement behind in his footprints. He'd get coffee when he arrived, maybe even splash out adventurously into the seasonal atmosphere and have gingerbread or nutmeg in it.

He watched his breaths cloud the air as he thought forwards in time to the end of his day. The library tree went up tonight. He knew because he had oh-so-subtly queried it with one of the temporary first year staff members, making a comment about how it'd be nice if there were decorations up in the main body. She'd smiled shyly and told him it'd be up by the weekend. Friday, she was sure.

Arthur felt the anticipation thrum in his veins. If tradition held, it'd be the willowy dark-haired elf putting the tree up on his own, and Arthur could admit at least to himself how much he was looking forward to watching. It made his chest clench that this would be the last time he'd see it. Unless his plan worked as well as he hoped it would, in which case he'd ensure that the bloke helped Arthur put _his_ Christmas tree up next year. And every year for the foreseeable future.

But Arthur was getting ahead of himself.

First steps first, he'd learn the bloke's name. He'd talk to him and learn all the little things he wanted to know about him. Like what he was studying, where he wanted to be after Uni. If he was into blokes and if so, would Arthur be his type? He'd find out his favourite foods and what kind of music it was that he was always listening to through those bright green earphones. What did he do for fun and _please Gods_ was he a fan of the monster-based TV show Arthur would never admit to watching religiously?

And then, all going smoothly, Arthur would find a way to keep him around for as many Christmases as possible.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

Merlin spent the duration of his last lecture staring out at the snow and flip-flopping between feeling as serene as the scene he could see in the falling dusk and a building eagerness for his shift at the library. His heart wobbled every time he thought of what he had planned to do, his mouth dry and his brain incapable of concentrating on the material in front of him. His lecturer could be revealing that the secrets of time-travel correlated with Doctor Who or analysing the latest episode of Supernatural and Merlin wouldn't even notice.

He was lost to them, watching the snow spiral downwards, wrapped in his own thoughts and the wondrous trepidation of what could be in store for him.

When the lights finally went up and the people around him began to scurry from the rows like rats escaping to pastures greener in the form of their evening plans, Merlin's heart was deciding on a new, unsteady rhythm. He wobbled a little when he stood to collect up his things and throw his rucksack over his shoulder.

It was almost dark already by the time he reached the snowy path that skirted the main teaching buildings and circled the huge sprawling building the library was housed in. Merlin dawdled through the ankle-high white, revelling in the simple cold and feeling the season rush over him, feeling the familiar craving for his flat, for the temperamental hot water tap filling the bath and for cinnamon biscuits and hot chocolate and his Christmas movies. The air was drowsy and quiet, winter night devoid of the usual feathered calls.

The closer his feet took him to the library, the further into his coat Merlin felt himself shrink. His scarf obscured his mouth and his hat left only the lobes of his ears to be bitten by the winter air. The light from the library windows was warm buttermilk, spilling across the icy ground in soft squares and singing to Merlin. For a moment he stopped just to _look_ , just to see the beauty of it. The quiet enveloped him.

Merlin pushed open the doors and felt the warmth reach for him with comfortable fingers, drawing him forwards into the embrace of the library. The air was quiet, but not in the way it was quiet outside. The quiet here was warm, soothing in a way that the snow was calming, sleepy and slow in a way that the outside was sharp and clear.

Merlin _loved_ it.

He took his time walking to the desk, shrugging his coat from his shoulders methodically, taking comfort from the smell of old pages and coffee in the air. He hung it on his favoured peg, reaching into the pocket for his name badge. When he'd pinned it onto the breast pocket of the shirt he was wearing, - an old one of Wills, too baggy and worn and needing thrown out but Merlin's _favourite_ \- he bypassed the desk altogether, instead skirting around in the direction of the store cupboard.

"Merlin!"

Merlin turned to grin at Freya, walking backwards as he did.

"It's tree night, Frey!"

He could feel the giddiness in his throat as he spoke. The brunette laughed, her cheeks rosy from the heater in the back office and her eyes glittering already from second-hand excitement.

"I know! They asked me to stay on to cover the desk so you could get peace to do it."

He pulled the storeroom key from his jeans and put it in the lock. By all rights he shouldn't have it on his person outside of the library, but nearly four years of service had earned his some trust. He pulled the light string, watching the fluorescent light flicker and waver before catching like old engine, brightening with a snap.

The tree was tucked in the corner in its boxes - neatly packed - he knew. The anticipation was bubbling in his blood like a heady sugar hit. It was him who packed it, after all, and he was nothing if not particular about the way he did it.

Box by box, Merlin dragged it all out into the open area of the ground floor, tearing off year-old tape and grinning as the dusty, tinkling contents shifted and clinked. There was something… _sacred_ about this part of the festive season for him. Something precious. His heart did a lurching, twisting loop. Something that a deep, secret part of him longed to share.

Merlin knew he was amongst the few, a university student of just twenty-two who wanted nothing more than something comfortable, some _one_ comfortable to share with. To share everything, _any_ thing with. It was idealistic and unrealistic but his favourite Christmas movie was the Holiday after all, and all he wanted was Rose cottage, cramped book-filled walls and a wood fire, a dog - or a cat or a hamster or _something_ \- and _him_. Call him crazy, call him obsessed, he didn't care.

He couldn't care, because he couldn't bring himself to stop. He didn't know what it was, what _exactly_. All he knew was that since he had first laid eyes on him, first seen him roll his eyes and scoff, first heard him laugh that confident, easy sound… First seen his eyes look _his_ way…

Merlin had been lost, and his heart would consider nothing else.

It had simply seemed fate that the first time he saw him was at Christmas, days after he'd told Will he was swearing off university guys because they were all idiots with loose morals and immature tendencies. The blonde had crept into his peripheral vision, one moment not there and the next there, sitting at a desk and looking entirely engrossed in the book he was reading. He'd stayed till almost closing, only moving once and returning soon after with a coffee that Merlin could smell from across the cavernous room.

Merlin had been unable to keep his eyes from him for more than moments, drawn as though the blonde were singing something only he could hear. He'd tangled himself in lights, almost dropped baubles, tripped and stumbled more often than he had in years, knowing that if those insanely gorgeous blue eyes glanced his way they'd _see_ him, badly-chosen old jeans and all. It had been the first time in a long time Merlin had felt uncomfortable about wearing his favourite clothes, felt out of place in the prestigious university wearing his tatty old high tops and an admittedly nerdy superhero t-shirt.

His hands had been clammy, his neck hot and his heart weak.

Much like Merlin felt now, trying his best not to look up to see if the blonde were there yet. _It's still early_ , he tried to tell himself. _He'd get caught_ , he tried to believe. _He really should concentrate_ , as he turned back to the desk to hijack the subtly placed speakers hidden in nooks and crannies, as he tuned it to his favourite Christmas playlist.

 _He should get over it_ , focus on the task he had at hand, at _enjoying_ that task like he always did.

But truly? Merlin was only afraid that if he looked for him… he wouldn't be there.


	7. Chapter 7

_**(A/N):** When I began this, I was so so hoping to complete it for Christmas. I guess I've failed in that respect, but I've grabbed every free moment I could today to try and give you guys at least another chapter for the season's greetings day. I hope, wherever you are and whoever you're with, that you have a wonderful Christmas and that if you don't celebrate it that you have a really lovely day anyway._  
 _Merry Christmas, you awesome people._  
 _Happy Reading!_

* * *

 _Chapter Seven_

It was bitter cold outside. So cold that a small, cowardly part of Arthur - growing with every passing minute, not that he'd admit it - was trying to sell him on the urge to flee, under the guise of heading home to his toasty flat. Leon and he agreed and disagreed on numerous things, but thankfully the temperature of their flat was not amongst the disagreed. He pulled his collar further up his neck and hunched his shoulders, burying his hands deep in his coat once more.

The thought of what- of _who_ \- awaited him in the library kept him warm anyway.

He hadn't been able to focus all day, his mind too saturated with images, memories of the bloke who'd nicked his heart with little more than his messy hair and carefree grin. And those _eyes_. The mere thought of them made Arthur feel idiotically weak at the knees, like some swooning teen girl, and in person they rendered him almost completely unable to function. Any time he ever caught them glancing even remotely in his direction had his stomach lurching, his pulse startling.

Even now, three years on, three years older and wiser… it still sent that same tremble through his system, like every muscle tripped over itself simultaneously, leaving Arthur still standing but feeling wholly out of his own place for a moment.

He'd developed a habit embarrassingly early on of visiting at the weekends when he suspected the library would be quiet, after coming to the realisation that the dark-haired, scrawny librarian was there most Sundays. It was routine now, just part of his week to do so, and always alone if he could help it. Even the calling of a long lie would wane in strength when his alarm went off and he was tugged into wakefulness by the anticipation of seeing _him_.

Arthur was feeling it now, thick and obnoxious and racing under his skin.

Like an itch he couldn't scratch. One he wasn't even sure he wanted to, because… Well, because anything that had anything to do with the librarian made Arthur want him more and even the longing that was perpetually rooted deep in his chest - not that he would ever say the lads were right, because Arthur Pendragon didn't _pine_ \- was better than having nothing. Arthur was greedy for anything, lived for even just those night sky eyes on _him_ for a moment, a heartbeat.

It was never enough but always had to be, until this year had come along and smacked Arthur hard in the face with the realisation that for nearly three years he had watched and wanted and never done anything about it and his time was running out. Now, almost at the half-way point in their fourth year, Arthur had to _do_ something.

He refused to imagine his days beyond University, working at his father's company, leaving libraries and study guides and all-night lecture play-back marathons, becoming a true adult… without the sight of that one man.

It couldn't happen, however weird or dramatic or desperate it made him sound.

Arthur refused to let this chance in his life slip away. Not without at least trying to grasp it, _him_ , with both hands.

The alternative was next Christmas, and every Christmas after it, without the one day he'd come to love more than any other.

Even if he was shot down, even if… if any or _all_ of the unthinkable outcomes Arthur feared came true… He wanted to be friends. He wanted to know him, he wanted him in his life however he was willing to be.

Arthur wanted more Christmas trees, more tinsel and lights and- and-

Who was he kidding? Arthur wanted _him_ more than anything he could ever imagine wanting.

Arthur pushed open the large glass doors and felt the deja vu filter through his skin. Three years ago he'd performed the same action, not knowing how much it would bring into his life. Not knowing the way he'd lose his heart.

He took that breath of library air and felt it translate a smile onto his face.

 _Tonight_.

 _Now_.

Arthur stepped inside, his fingers shaking as he reached up to unwind his tangled scarf, becoming sure he hadn't tied it the way it was tangled now. The soft Christmas music filtered gently through the air in a dream-like way, old songs Arthur loved, the same old songs they played every year. He felt the routine tugging him, moving his feet across the familiar pattern of the carpet, towards the place where the tree always stood.

He'd made it, _thank goodness_ , he'd made it.

His usual table was where it always was, tucked beside that mis-matching bookshelf and in direct line of sight of the tree and-

And bearing a pile of books and a couple of pens. And a notepad. Arthur's heart sank, and he looked around for a table nearby, realising only then that none in his vicinity gave him the cover he was used to, the natural line of sight. He'd either be hidden or blatantly obvious at any of the others. He was starting to feel sick.

 _No!_

This couldn't happen, not tonight! Not when-

"Oh, sorry. Forgot to tidy all that away. Give me a mo'."

Arthur turned to… to what exactly he wasn't sure, but whatever words were about to come out of his mouth died there as he turned and found himself facing the down-turned head of none other than the lanky elfin librarian who was his sole reason for being there.

Arthur felt time stop.

Every atom, every nerve of his being was instantly and intensely awake, an electric jolt that rolled through him in a tingling wave. He stood _so close_ , not even by normal standards but closer than Arthur had ever been to him, closer than Arthur was apparently able to handle. His heart stuttered and stumbled and tried to catch its balance in an ongoing battle against the devastating _heat_ of nerves washing through him.

The tousled head lifted from whatever it was in his hands he was looking at, a pleasant smile touching his lips as he spoke, his gaze finally moving and then…

Then his eyes were caught in Arthur's and Arthur forgot how to breathe.


	8. Chapter 8

_**(A/N):**_ _Well, in typical me-fashion I've posted and sat myself right back down to try and hash out the next. Oops?_  
 _Merry Christmas!_  
 _Happy Reading!_

* * *

 _Chapter Eight_

So he'd cheated, a little. Booked out the table by pretending someone was working at it. But it wasn't like he'd planned to prevent someone who actually wanted it. He just… wanted to maybe convince people who saw it as the first free seat to look around for an alternative, that was all. It sounded stupid even to himself but part of him was sort of hoping he'd be… helping fate along a little, if he was truly meant to be with the one he wanted then surely… surely a little help wouldn't hurt?

But he'd kept an eye out, trying to convince himself it was just in case someone needed the table, but in truth he knew it was _him_ he was looking for. And Merlin had the tree erected and anchored by the time anyone came along and paused him in what he was doing. Unraveling the wire from his forearm and setting a neat coil gently on the floor, Merlin stepped carefully out of his maze of cables and tinsel and boxes towards where the figure stood, looking around as though for an alternate table.

Part of Merlin was tempted to pretend he couldn't see a student in need of assistance and let them leave, but that just wasn't him. Will always said he was too much of a good egg. Perhaps now Merlin could understand what he meant.

"Oh, sorry." he said in greeting, pocketing the busted bulb he'd been replacing when he realised it was in his hand.

One of his laces was coming undone. He made a mental note to tie it as soon as he cleared the table. God forbid he trip over it and burst his nose and have to leave early tonight of all nights. It'd be just his luck, really.

"Forgot to tidy all that away. Give me a mo'."

He looked up, his _customer_ smile in place as he took in the bloke in front of him. He was definitely dressed for the weather, with his jeans tucked into dark boots and a thick coat on. There was a thick insulated hat pulled low on his head and Merlin opened his mouth to comment before the stray blonde wipe escaping under the brim made his words die.

The strong jaw, the line of his neck as he turned his head to look at Merlin, the faintly crooked curve of his nose and- and those _eyes_.

Merlin's thoughts flushed right out of his brain as though hoovered by an over-eager handmaiden. Suddenly all he could see, all he could _think_ about was the bearer of those gorgeous baby blues, about how if the man before him were to tip his head the light would sparkle as though hitting a clear pond in the height of summer. Merlin was beyond hope, his nerves all jangling in alarm and his heart skittering like a duck missing its aim on a blustery day and landing in a tree; inelegant, squawking, doing its very best not to fall from its perch as it flailed.

There was an infinitely long moment of stillness, as though the world had been paused. Merlin couldn't move, couldn't _blink_. His mouth was dry, his face hot.

All the hours of daydreaming, all the empty morning shifts planning and strategising and making sure he'd thought of everything, rehearsed what he'd say in almost any situation he could think of and many more besides… all gone with just a look.

Well, just a look and the way the blonde's eyes widened at the very same instant the sloping crests of his cheeks were dusted pink.

The thought that _he_ , the gorgeous, clever, owner-of-a-smirk-that-could-kill _god_ was blushing because of-

Because of what, exactly? Merlin was suddenly painfully aware of their proximity. It wasn't intrusive, by every day standards it was normal, a safe distance between them. But Merlin's heart pounded and he felt like this was different, felt far too intimate, too _close_. He took an abrupt step backwards, managing - thank you, fate - not to stumble as the tip of his hightop caught his trailing lace.

"I'll just clear it up." he repeated, in barely more than a breath, a mumble.

Merlin was, at heart, a chatty person. Finding himself without words was jarring and threw him off-balance.

"Oh." was the soft, almost silent reply, the speaker blinking suddenly. "Uhm."

"No bother." Merlin answered, already stepping to the table, reaching for the books, but damn it if he couldn't look away.

The blonde stood just the same, his eyes locked on Merlin as though seeing him for the first time. Merlin's brain whirred like a helpful computer about to remind of the first time but Merlin tore his eyes away to try and abort it, knowing that right that moment was exactly _not_ the time to reminisce in his head.

"Thanks." the voice said and _oh_ Merlin was not prepared for the sound of it when directed at _him_.

"No bother." he said again, before wincing internally.

He could kick himself. He had wanted to not sound like an utter idiot when he finally spoke to him and now look! He sounded like he knew so few words the blonde was likely to question why on earth he worked in a library and _how_ in hell's name he'd managed to secure said job and-

 _Jesus Christ, Merlin_ , sounded Will's voice in his head, _calm the fuck down._

He took a breath.

With trembling fingers Merlin scooped up the books and notebook, balancing them all on one arm to gather up his pens. He reminded himself that the night wasn't a total failure right then. He'd saved the table and his intended visitor had arrived, and he'd so far managed not to trip over himself or blurt his undying love or do something equally embarrassing and social-death-worthy.

He couldn't resist instinct, looking back up as he made to move away, finding those blue eyes on him once more. He smiled, relieved to find it as easy as he always did despite how loudly he was screaming inside.

"There we go." he said, and he actually sounded cheerful.

 _This could work!_

Thank the gods he hadn't started walking yet, because at that moment the man decided to give him a wide, winning smile in thanks, making Merlin's insides mere mush.

"Thank you." Again, soft and oh-so-sweet, making Merlin wobble a little.

"No bother."

This time, he knew it was himself who was turning pink, and probably much closer to red. He ducked his head and turned away, focusing any molecule of concentration he could shake from his haze on his feet. Please, for all that was sacred, let him not trip while carrying so many books. Despite the sweet clichéd fantasy that immediately played in his head - the regal blonde swooping in to help him pick them all up again, of course - Merlin didn't think his pulse would survive another jolt like that so soon.

If eye contact did this to him, what chance did he have of making it through a conversation? Let alone a confession.

 _Oh, help._


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

Arthur's ears were full of his own pulse, his heartbeat fast and drum-like in his head. The librarian had left him at the table and Arthur had been unable to stop himself from watching him walk away, each step careful as though he were trying not to trip over that loose lace of his. Arthur had warmed at the sight, something incredibly tender entering his chest as he thought of the many times he'd observed the lanky bloke stumble, trip, wobble.

Before him, Arthur had never been one to fall for an underdog, the clumsy one. He had always gone after an entirely different type of bloke, - or indeed girl - always after a certain pride, an attractive confidence. But then he'd stumbled into the library on a mission to find a place to escape for a while and…

And _he_ had happened.

And now? Now all Arthur could do when watching films with his mates was fall for the hopeless cases, the underdogs, the characters who didn't lead but had all the spunk and none of the self-belief. He found himself yearning less for the James Bond's of the world and more for the Q's, no longer interested in Captain America and more inclined towards the dorkier Quicksilver, the shy and unassuming Nightcrawler.

Arthur couldn't explain it and he couldn't change it. Now he fell for the best friends, side-stepping the charming and brave leads for the intellectuals.

It made his head spin.

But it didn't scare him now, not like it did at first. Because Arthur watched for three years as the unassuming smile, the tousled hair, the sweet and helpful long-limbed librarian stole his heart and all its fractions, claiming his affections when he overheard him ramble, heard him argue passionately about one admittedly nerdy fandom or the next. When he'd heard him arguing with a girl on the desk over the unsung heroes in Harry Potter, Arthur had flushed all over because he felt the same.

The shared love for Neville and Seamus went right to Arthur's heart, and daft as it was it only aided his rapidly growing crush.

So now, seated at his favourite table and trying his hardest to look focused on a book as he stared, Arthur wanted nothing more than to scoop up the ridiculous, clumsy, cartoon-printed-T-shirt-favouring bloke and kiss him senseless.

And at the same time he was terrified of admitting how he felt.

Instead, he sat. He sat, and he watched as the bloke went back to sorting lights, as he checked each bulb thoroughly, as he fumbled and almost dropped cable after cable and dressed the tree in coloured twinkles. He just about had a heart attack every time the pale face cocked to one side, every time it looked like those dark eyes might drift his way.

The lights were up and the bloke was fiddling with reams of tinsel, tangling himself completely and shifting it from one way to the next as though… As though what, exactly? He looked like he were pausing, taking as long as possible. Stalling, maybe. Arthur had seen from previous years that the bloke clearly enjoy the task of putting up the tree, however humongous a job it may be. Arthur may not know him well, but he could see that clear as day.

He'd always loved seeing the joy light in those eyes, the grin that always stretched across his lips. He saw it waver now and a sudden thought struck Arthur from nowhere.

Was it possible that the table had been reserved? Could it be that the bloke were waiting for someone to show? But if so, then why had he cleared it for Arthur? Why had he come over so fast, like he'd been _waiting_ to do so, like…

Arthur's mouth ran dry and his lungs stalled. He almost didn't dare to think it.

Was it possible? Could his luck be so good that-

 _Had he been waiting for Arthur?_

And then, right then when he was swallowing the fear of what devastating consequences such a hope could have if dashed…

The blue eyes turned his way and met his own.

A flash zipped through him at the contact, as though his gaze were a physical touch. Every nerve was alight again, every inch of his skin alive and _buzzing_. And to top it off, a flush of dark pink rolled over the bloke's face, staining his cheeks and making his lashes darker than shadow. Arthur trembled.

And when it was over, when those eyes turned back to the pile of tinsel at the foot of the tree, Arthur felt brave for the first time that day. He gave himself over to it, and it rewarded him with what he'd wanted to do for so very long that it felt life-long.

Arthur pushed back his seat and stood up, his legs shaking with each step as he made his way _finally_ over, as he approached the one place he'd wanted to be in three years. _His side_. He was compelled, as though drawn in by magnetism, or gravity or something stronger.

Like… fate.

Like _Magic_.

And suddenly he found himself there, standing beside the bloke with the down-turned head, seeing close up the concentration on his features, feeling the proximity send the wings in his stomach crazy, feeling the light-headed disbelief that he was actually _doing_ this, standing right beside him and opening his mouth as though to speak.

"Need a hand?"

The head shot up and the startled eyes were round and breath-taking, sending all other thought from Arthur's vicinity.

"Hi." he croaked.

The bloke only stared at him, like he'd been zapped by some unseen force, startled and still, one hand reaching as though to cover his own mouth.

"I- uhm…"

"Hi." the librarian breathed, and Arthur could draw breath once more.

He pushed on recklessly, lest his bravery fail and his words disappear again like they felt destined to do.

"Listen, this is going to sound… well, _weird_ , but-"

"Oh-"

"I just-"

"- god!"

"What?"

"Are we actually-"

"Are you-"

"Sorry, you go."

"Sorry, you go."

Both stopped to laugh, faces reddening as they broke the eye contact that was sending them both quivering. Arthur cleared his throat, Merlin hummed. Arthur brushed invisible lint from his jumper and Merlin rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

The air between them was awkward, excitement crackling like anticipation.

 _It was happening_.

Arthur took a breath and forced himself to get a grip, his eye returning to the lanky, nerdy form of the bloke he'd wanted to know for _three years_.

"I'm Arthur." he blurted, bravely at last.

"You are not!" came the eager reply, blue eyes shining as a smile bloomed across his face. "I'm Merlin!"

Arthur could only blink at him in response.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Ten_

"No you're not." was what came out of his mouth in response.

It might have sounded sharp and cutting were it not for the way in which Arthur's voice broke and pitched. When the bloke straightened Arthur realised he had walked way too close, barely half a foot of space between them now.

"I- That's not what I meant. I mean, I-"

The bloke's beaming grin was fading, softening at the edges to become a different smile entirely as he watched Arthur ramble. There was a part of Arthur observing, sitting within Arthur's head and telling him to shut the bloody hell up right _now_ but it wasn't working. Arthur's mouth just kept on going.

"Well, I'm Arthur! I can't have- I mean we- I- You can't be. Merlin, I mean. I mean, who's called Merlin? Like, who gets- Not that I don't _like_ the name. I just-"

"And I thought _I_ could babble." Merlin said, his amused voice soft and quiet and yet commanding Arthur's mouth to still in a way his own orders hadn't.

"I don't _babble_." Arthur retorted sharply, before opening his mouth to apologise, stilled by that voice again.

"If you say something else right now then you're only confirming it."

Merlin's smile widened as Arthur clicked his mouth shut.

"Shut up."

Merlin laughed then, bright and sunny, and Arthur was forced back to the knowledge that he was fucking _lost_ when it came to him.

To _Merlin_.

He knew a Merlin for Pete's sake! _Merlin_! Who would have thought that-

It was just too impossible to even start to contemplate, so Arthur did what he was good at; he simply accepted the bloke was called Merlin and moved on.

Okay. So, _name_ down. Done. Next?

Oh, how about _declaration of love_?

Easy, right?

His eyes caught Merlin's as the elfish librarian glanced up once more.

 _Yeah, easy my arse._

"So are you going to help, or was that just the best opener you could think of?"

Arthur was witness then to the mischievous light in Merlin's eyes. He'd seen it once or twice before, usually with the broad-shouldered scruffy-looking bloke Arthur had at first pegged as a boyfriend. Needless to say Arthur didn't much like getting into _that_ little tangiest, because he was not his usual poised, mature self during that time.

Ahem.

But still he found the nervous feeling tingle in his neck as he opened his mouth to answer, smiling like he'd been found out and was unable to help it.

"Well, I mean I…"

His words ran out when Merlin tilted his head to the side and cocked one artistic, perfect eyebrow. The full lips quirked at the corners, making Arthur's knees weak again. The rushed urge to kiss him made his own mouth fizzle as though expectant.

"So _yes_." Merlin teased, looking far too pleased with himself.

It gave Arthur a second wind, made him want to argue just to _prove_ that he could. To show this lanky, dorky bloke that he could handle him and his enticing, exasperating smile. To say it caused sparks was a complete understatement. He crossed his arms, trying not to notice the way Merlin's eyes wavered to his shoulders and back, drawn by the stretch of fabric. The way Arthur had found effective on others in the past.

Okay, so he didn't _exactly_ ignore it, nor was the little curl of satisfaction easily brushed away.

"So if it was an opener…" He gestured to Merlin, allowing his gaze to trail just a little and seeing the effect it had when the bloke turned just a tad pink, "It worked." He shrugged in faux modesty, "It opened a conversation."

Merlin was suddenly softer in the face of Arthur's confidence, his shoulders rounding and one hand lifting to run shyly through the tangle of black hair. The smile on his face was lovely then, not that the edged one hadn't been. But this? Arthur felt a gentle pang in his chest to see Merlin this way. The way he looked on Sundays, when Arthur managed to escape his friends and find a corner here, to see the relaxed curve of Merlin's shoulders, the lack-a-daisical way he flittered around the library putting books away and humming softly under his breath.

Arthur cherished those Sundays, when the library was quiet and he could wear what he wanted without feeling judged because weekends were open to it.

"I could still help though," he offers, smiling gently, "if you'd like someone around who doesn't drop the baubles or get tangled in the lights."

Brave, maybe. Foolish, probably, to joke so soon. For an instant there was a fear, that the surprise in those sapphire eyes was bad. But then it went away.

"You never know," Merlin smiled back, his voice soft and lilting, "might be nice to be a helper instead of an audience."

Arthur flushed, caught off-guard by the bold twinkle.

But rising to it was _gorgeous_.

"Might distract you less, not having to look over there all the time."

Despite the blossoming heat he saw across Merlin's face, the other man grinned.

"You _were_ watching." he said, before clamping a hand over his own mouth so fast it made a sharp sound.

Arthur swayed, unable to decide whether to grasp hold of his fading boldness or allow the bashful feeling to rise, to risk brutal honesty or… Or play it off, when this was his _chance_ , his moment to-

To-

 _What?_

In the end his infernal mouth spoke for him.

"Caught red-handed."

Merlin's eyes were huge blue pools, looking at him with an almost frighteningly vulnerable light. It made Arthur's heart fumble and tumble and lose it's rhythm altogether, desperate and _wanting_.

"I, uhm. The- ha. This is… more difficult than I planned."

Merlin only blinked, looking suddenly pale and uncertain and Arthur had to fight not to reach for him. They didn't know each other. He couldn't go reaching for people he didn't know, touching arms or god forbid taking hugs when he didn't even- He didn't even know if Merlin was-

"I have a lot more confidence when I'm talking to myself at home." he said, breathy and awkwardly wrapped in a chuckle, "But I- uhm. Yes, I… I like to… see you put the Christmas tree up. You- ah, you make this place so festive and, you know. It's… pleasant."

"Will says I get too into it." Merlin rescued him, hand falling hesitantly to reveal a bashful, sweet smile, "Says if I didn't get it out of my system decorating this one then our flat would be a mess of tinsel and death-trap lights."

Arthur chuckled again, thinking of his own flat drowning in tinsel and lights. It was simultaneously horrifying and… Well, sort of nice if it was Merlin making it that way.

"You do a great job." he said instead.

Merlin grinned, looking up at the beginnings of the tree, giving Arthur a breath-hitching view of the emotion in his eyes. The way Merlin looked at Christmas always made Arthur love Christmas more, something he was dreading to lose when there were no more University Christmases left. The thought gripped his abdomen in something cold and gave him a push he might really need.

"You always make me feel more… Christmasy." he added lamely.

Merlin turned to look at him, and Arthur felt it. The heat in Merlin's face, the fullness in his eyes. Arthur could fall into them, fall into the ocean behind them. Watch the stars shine in them. He took a breath.

"I love Christmas." Merlin murmured, looking down at his hands and lifting one shoulder in a shy shrug, "My favourite time of year."

Now or never. Do it.

 _Do it, Arthur!_

"Mine too."

From the way Merlin's eyes met his, it could be wagered that he'd understood.

"Really?" he asked in a hopeful whisper, seeming to move closer without moving at all, gaze searching Arthur's face. "You're sure you like it? Not just… because it's there every year?"

"I'm sure." Arthur answered, whispering too, unable to see the way his fingers had reached, had taken gentle hold of Merlin's elbow.

"I didn't want to graduate without ever having come clean." he admitted in a breath, biting his cheek hard as he watched the librarian study him, as those gorgeous sapphire eyes roamed over his face.

"Me either." Merlin whispered, before his hand skimmed over Arthur's arm.

The touch was electric, sending Arthur's pulse into a panic, playing havoc with his heart and sending his thought process haywire. He swallowed, fearing he was going to collapse under the shivering tingle Merlin's mere feather-light touch was shooting through him. He could feel himself trembling.

"Uhm."

And then Merlin smiled, an expression soft and fond and gentle, and his eyes met Arthur's, warmth beyond what Arthur could believe his luck to bring him shining in their depths.

"I haven't put the mistletoe up yet, but I… Well. Uhm."

Arthur watched the scarlet streak across Merlin's porcelain skin and his gut lurched at the same time as his heart. It was- _Oh dear gods it was happening and he- He-_

"May I?" his voice asked without instruction, one hand curling bravely into Merlin's hair and the thumb kissing his jaw of its own volition.

Merlin's eyelids fluttered as though to close, and he hitched in a broken breath.

" _Yes_." he breathed, and Arthur lowered his face down until they were so close he could feel the heat from Merlin's cheeks.

And he kissed him.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Ten_

"Well it was about bloody time." came a voice from the side, and Leon turned to see a pair walking through the doors, each focused on the same sight Leon, Lance and Gwaine were.

"Tell me about it." groaned Gwaine, over-dramatic as always.

Will threw him a weird look, as though offended some stranger had just commented on his mate getting together with the blonde. The girl with him rolled her eyes at the back of his head when he turned back to survey the scene before them, and after taking a peek herself she turned to the three standing doing the same. They looked familiar, and the presence of one made her able to fit the pieces together.

"Don't mind Will." she said, voice equal parts fond and scolding. "He can be a bit of a plonker. I'm Gwen." She gave him a friendly smile. "Elyan's my little brother."

"He's a character, that one." the closest bloke replied with a smile. "I'm Leon. This is Gwaine, and then Lance." he introduced them, thumbing over his shoulder as he offered her his hand.

"Yes," said Gwen, sending a smile over his shoulder as she shook the offered hand. "I know Lance."

Behind Leon, Gwaine elbowed Lance in the ribs and the quieter young man shrugged him away, turning pink at the top of his cheeks.

"I take it you're friends of his?" Leon asked, gesturing towards Merlin and Arthur.

Gwen smiled widely and nodded, turning to look at the pair sitting close together to untangle the tinsel. Will turned his face long enough to give Leon a once-over with his eyes.

"Nah, we're just here ogling the bloke for no reason." he said, voice laced with sarcasm. "Course we're his mates."

There was a loud bray of laughter from behind him as Gwaine clapped a startled Leon on the back.

"I think I like this one." he grinned, only giving Will a cheeky glance when the brunette turned to raise a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Not into blokes, mate." he retorted, unmoved by Gwaine's attempt at humour.

Gwaine laughed again, carefree.

"We could see about that." he answered gleefully, cackling when Will's face coloured a little and he looked away again with a faint scowl.

"Enough, Gwaine." Lance put in softly, his eyes ghosting Gwen's way before returning to his friend, shy. "Don't scare them off."

Gwaine smirked.

"Hey, Lance-"

"You know what, Gwaine? I just remembered I have papers to pick up. Lend us a hand, yeah?" said Leon suddenly, grasping Gwaine's arm before the other could reply. As he walked away he turned to smile at Lance. "We'll only be gone a few, yeah?"

Lance watched them walk off, - or rather he watched Leon walk and Gwaine being hauled like a petulant child - feeling simultaneously grateful and afraid. He looked at the two people standing beside him, friends of Arthur's new bloke. _New_ being a shaky descriptor when you considered the three years of pining.

So maybe Gwaine wasn't as dense as they often teased him about being. Maybe he _had_ picked up on something - something entirely innocent, mind - between Lance and Gwen. Or rather, he'd picked up on the tension on Lance's end. He looked over at her to smile politely, the way the overhead lights glinted in her ebony curls making his hands shake. He shoved them in his pockets.

"Hi." he said instead of all the other things buzzing around in his head.

Things like _You look beautiful_ and _Your eyes take my breathe away_ and _Could I take you out for coffee some time?_

Gwen smiled at him, the expression soft and lovely on the gentle curves of her face. Her eyes were lit like cocoa pebbles, enchanting and deep enough to get lost in. Lance had always been the one with the most patience for Arthur's record-birthing obsession with the librarian, possibly because he secretly - or not so secretly, if his friends were just too nice to say - knew how he was feeling. (Gwaine notwithstanding.)

The mere thought of having a full, restriction-free conversation with the lovely Gwen made it difficult for Lance to form coherent thoughts.

"Gwen?" came the voice of the scruffy bloke with her, (Will, Gwen had called him.) "If he finally goes through with this and all he does is sort that fucking tree out with him I might kill him tonight."

Lance watched her roll her eyes and turn to look at Will, seeing the bloke's folded arms and dissatisfied expression. Lance began to wonder if it was humanly possible that the bloke Arthur had pined over had possibly had a crush on him like they'd always teased him.

"Been after Arthur long, has he?" he asked, before he'd thought about it.

Gwen turned to shoot him a smile.

"Yes, actually he-"

"He's not called _Arthur_?" Will said at the same time.

Gwen paused, frowned gently, and then turned to look at Lance with large, questioning eyes. He looked between the two faces, Will looking incredulous and Gwen faintly amused, and wondered what was wrong with his friend's name. Arthur was old-fashioned, sure, but his own name was Lance, short for Lancelot. Made their friendship a bit of a laugh for people, but that was just an odd coincidence. Those happened every now and then in a such an old world so full of people.

"Yes." he answered slowly, trying to understand, "Why?"

Gwen laughed, a breathy, awed sort of sound that softened her face even further. Will looked less incredulous than scandalised, turning to shoot an oddly dirty look over at the two figures by the Christmas tree.

"Is he fuck." Will said.

"He is," Lance replied, "believe it or not. Bit of a coincidence considering I'm called Lance, but it's not really that weird when you get used to it."

He couldn't help sneaking a glance at Gwen, smiling bashfully when he thought about how nice it would be for her to hang around and have time to get used to it. He was surprised when she turned scarlet and covered her mouth to suppress another laugh.

"You're joking." Will cried, tearing his gaze from Merlin and- and _Arthur_ for fuck's sake, to look at this tall curly-haired blocked called sodding _Lancelot_ for the love of-

He looked at Gwen, feeling weird and unsettled in his gut as he wondered whether he should be laughing or calling the bloke an outrageous liar.

"Not joking," Lance answered pleasantly, "but we get that a lot."

Will looked at Gwen again, his mouth opening and then closing again when he couldn't find anything to say. It wasn't like he had _no_ idea about Arthurian legend, - how could he when his best mate was _Merlin_? - but he knew enough. He looked between the red faces of Gwen and Lance and wondered whether, had the medieval King been as gay with Merlin as _this_ Arthur was looking, would the whole tale have been less of a tragedy?

"Huh." he said eventually, turning to look at his best mate across the room again. "Huh."


End file.
